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Tancred
"I am a servant without a master, a wanderer without a home. I stand free of all that I held dear and all that I once loved hold nought but hate for me. Why then, if I am so shattered a man, do I regret nothing?" "I am Tancred of Ultramar. I am the only True Ultramarine yet living. I am the Legion of one, yet it will not always be thus. The Sons of Tancred will raise up and liberate the Imperium from those tax collectors and mortals who believe they hold dominion over us. I will be the Emperor of Mankind, and Master of all worlds." "The Strategies of the Lion, the Perfection of Fulgrim, the Ingenuity of Perturabo, the Speed of the Khan, the Pride of Russ, the Steadfastness of Dorn, the Terror of Kurze, the Charisma of Sanguinius, the Iron Hand of Manus, the Rage of Angron, the Practicality of Guilliman, the Endurance of Mortarion, the Treachery of Magnus, the Ambition of Horus, the Fanaticism of Lorgar, the Warcry of Vulkan, the Tactics of Korax, and the Secrets of Alpharius. I embody every legion, as they embody me. The Imperium and the Warp know my name." Origins "You ask me of my home? I am a true son of Macragge, the noblest of blood runs through my veins. I was born to be an Ultramarine, and that story begins when I was but ten years old. Training, day in and day out, we were drilled to perfection under the watchful eye of those who had come before. I could tell you of the daily routine, the perfection of discipline matched only by those of Dorns blood. I remember the day of my elevation to the rank of scout. It was one of those days that should have passed as any other, except now we were putting those skills we learned to use in battle. We were gathered together, and given our first briefing. So many scouts, so many brothers who are no longer with us now. Many were not worthy, and fell short in the end. Ahh, but I lose myself once more. We were gathered in formation, and it was there that I set my eyes upon my Primarch. Guilliman, if you have ever seen a Primarch or heard them speak, you know that there is no true way to describe all that they are. He was everything I aspired to be, a leader, a warrior without peer, and soon he would rule over his empire of five hundred worlds. Countless missions as a scout before my elevation to a full tactical marine. It was glorious, and we were unstoppable. The only legion to outshine us in worlds, was the Luna Wolves. Those Sons of Hours did their jobs well, though even they paled in the state of the worlds left behind. We were as gods to mere mortals, and that was the true Imperial Truth." "The true day the Great War began? It began in the aftermath of the Ullanor campaign. We were tasked with the destruction of the Greenskins on the outer planets, while the Lupercal fought the campaign in his typical way. Brilliance, and sheer destructive force to cut the head off the snake. Imagine it, the entirety of the Luna Wolves legion deployed, the Khan's forces, and Guillimans own. The galaxy has seldom seen anything near the number of Astartes that were deployed for that campaign. Six hundred warships, eight million simple men of arms, a hundred titans, and nearly a hundred thousand Astartes fell upon the greenskins, is it any wonder they fell? You may say to me, "Tancred, why would Greenskins ever require a force of so many Astartes?" I tell you now, it was the war that broke the greenskins back. The primarchs believed that we would simply mop the Xenos up, and that they would never be a threat again. I trail off once again, where was I? Oh yes...Ullanor. The Mechanicus flattened a continent, and it was here that the Emperor abandoned the great crusade. Fourteen legions, mortals, the Primarchs...I was a simple line soldier then, though I could still see the Primarchs lined there, brothers all.Then there was him. The Master of Mankind, the Emperor himself. The Primarchs themselves are a thing to behold, they are to an Astartes as an Astartes is to a man. Then there was the Emperor. Resplendent, like a true God among men...It is easy to see how the Lecticio Divinitatus spread so quickly, and how so many came to worship him as such in later days. I could feel both of my hearts, I feared they would stop when his gaze cast over me. I know he was not looking to me, but I could feel it, every one of us could feel as though he gazed into our very core, our souls. You have seen the powers of the Gods of the Warp, and I tell you...None could stand before the Master of Mankind." "Heresy you say? My words are Heresy to those who worship those Gods of the Warp? Perhaps. I have heard the ramblings of Navigators, and the Astronomicon, the Anathema they call it. The psychic manifestation of his will annihilates all it touches. Yet for all the Emperor was, he was not perfect. He allowed the Imperium we were to rule over to be given away to bureaucrats and politicians. He abandoned us all and gave away all that we fought for to those who had never lifted a weapon in anger. It was a hollow feeling in the hearts of men as all pushed forward. He heaped civilians upon our military craft, and allowed them to interfere and question the manner of war of my brother legions. Them? They're a tale for another day." "Why did I betray my legion? I will tell you this, I did not betray them, my Primarch betrayed me. It was at Ullanor that I was given a simple coin emblazoned with our crest. We were a fraternity of brothers, intended to meet and act alongside the chain of command. A place where brothers could speak freely with those that they never would, freed from the constriction of the chain of command. All were equal. The Emperor had banned warrior lodges such as these, though they were common through many legions. The Lupercal himself allowed them to flourish, though my own Primarch ordered my death. and the death of all who attended our lodge. Through all these centuries, through every wound taken, every poison ingested, every hurt that the galaxy could lay upon me, this was by far the most savage. It burned to the soul, it ripped away all that could have been. The battle honors I had earned were meaningless, my noble reputation, it meant nothing. To have your father, your Primarch turn from you and order your death for no true cause. That wound has never healed. We ran, those that survived the ambush. We fled, taking the stormbirds as far as we could. Eventually, an insane plan saw us make it to a vessel of the Emperors Children. Good, solid stock, they gave us shelter and turned to reconvene with Lord Eidolon at the Istvaan system. We were brought before the Warmaster himself to explain. I can see him vividly in my mind to this day, alongside the Captain known as Little Horus, and First Captain Abbadon himself. We were welcomed, given shelter, and offered the chance at a place to belong. We swore an oath to the Warmaster that day, that we would see our fallen brothers avenged, and that we would take back the Imperium from the politicians and bureaucrats who now ruled it upon the council of Terra." "Civilians? Yes, I remember mentioning them before. They were known as Remembrancers, and while many saw them as weak and feeble, unworthy of life at all, I still see different. They were painters, singers, composers, dancers, authors, they had talents that can not be truly molded by training. That spark of creativity, the small something deep within the mind that was natural talent. We Astartes have a natural talent for violence, which I will tell you is far more common than them. If one in every ten thousand men may become an Astartes, then one in hundred thousand may have the potential to become a Remembrancer. I took one of my own, and I yet remember her fondly. She was from Macragge, the daughter of a farmer. She was an artist without compare, one who I spared for as long as I could from what was to come. I would tell her of the campaigns, and she would tell me of home. She was a connection, a fond memory. I remember the day she asked if she could help me paint my armor. We all had serfs for that sort of thing, yet I always preferred to do it myself. I would come back to my quarters from training and find my armor painted, my weapons immaculate, and the last day I laid eyes upon her, a painting. She had painted my likeness, in my arming chamber. I never had the chance to thank her for it, and I never laid eyes upon her again. That was the night Guilliman betrayed me." "Let me tell you a story to chill the bones, about the horrors that plague this universe. There are many fools out in this galaxy that seek to subjugate the warp, to master it and turn it to their own means. There is a great malevolence in the warp and the creatures that spew from it. I have lain eyes upon two of those deemed greater among their ranks. The first, deep within the confines of a Deathwatch facility. The second, hastily summoned in a fools errand by the most haughty of our number. The first was released by myself and those with me, unknowing of what truly lay behind the containment field. It's name I will not speak, for it tears at sanity to speak of it. The second, a creature of the Dark Prince, terrible to behold, it tore a beast in two. This creature nearly pulling me in to the warp as it made its departure. The second was summoned by a companion of mine, hastily called in his fear of this beast, paying no heed to the weakness that had been discovered." Legends and Fables Artifacts and Arcana The Mighty Boot - Slayer of Warp beasts, crusher of skulls, Punter of Assassins Associates Allies Enemies Ultramarine Legion